Thunderbolts and Lightening [ooc post]
The thing about electricity, especially the created sort, was that it left a smell in the air that could only adequately be described as burning. Hanging how she was from the bar, fingers and arms screaming for the circulation lost from both her position and the handcuffs binding her, the smell of the electrical current and hum of the generator powering it made up for the fact she couldn't see.
The first touch of it on the skin of her underarm caused her entire body to tense, hairs standing on end before beginning to burn where the probe touched. Sucking in her breath she fought the instinct to recoil and instead attempted to go into her own mind, organizing her thoughts into little piles, trying to find that spark of God at had to exist in her. The voltage increased slightly, and the voice that held the rod scolded her, reminding her there is no escape from this pain, and there isn't.
Peace had once told her talked to her about child soldiers in the gentle coaching words of someone who is trying to get you to admit what you won't. It wasn't that she didn't realize she was broken, that almost six years as a Guardian and a young one at that, hadn't taken it's toil on her psyche. But some people were chosen for badness...it was almost genetic. Smoke had been the same as she was even though he hadn't raised her. Life was pain, and Janus had always said that pain was to be overcome, pushed through, learned from. It made you stronger, and so she tried to push through the current and it's sharpness but again that tsk'ing voice to her left made it impossible. There was no escape from it, just acceptance. The soothing stroke of fingers running over the sizzled flesh bringing her back to an uncomfortable awareness of the situation.
Accept the pain, the voice encouraged her, and the pleasure. See how both halves equal life. But there was no pleasure in life she wanted to argue, only stolen bits of enjoyment before the other boot fell and that walls came crashing down leaving you painfully alone again. But she didn't, arguing would net her nothing in this situation. Instead she went to the quiet place, the one the Monk's had shown her. She missed the Adepts and their mountain, they were so calm, so at peace with everything. Much like the voice talking to her now, deep and resonating with supernal power.
The current traces it way around her body both intimate and cruel and she squirms away from it, until the hand prevents her from moving further, forcing thoughts from her mind. It's humiliating...she wants to beg it to stop but it won't so she doesn't. A dot of blue light forms in the landscape of her mind and she follows it, she doesn't want to but the voice keeps urging her, assuring her it's okay, she has no control in this instance. Tears roll freely down her cheeks, mastigos aren't meant to not be in control of something, this is hard...harder than she thought. She becomes aware of each fingertip, every muscle and nerve ending in her body hanging there has the blue light grows around her.
The voice of the Almighty is waiting for her it comes in waves of color, in nothing a human mind could describe or vocalize. Washing over her everything fades to be replaced by a peace she has never known. In the seconds it resides in her she sees so clearly what the Messianics have been missing all this time. Life is pain, but also joy, they aren't damned by him, only by themselves. His love is pure, so pure, and she is a part of it. All this time she has been carrying her sin and her hurt like a cross along with her, now is the time to leave them in his hands, give him control.
It flees to quickly, the voice of God, but the peace remains. The current fades, hands lift her gently down and unfasten the cuffs, and all the while she only laugh and cry in unison at the perfectness of it all. So simple and yet so hard for the mind to see without surrender.
The first touch of it on the skin of her underarm caused her entire body to tense, hairs standing on end before beginning to burn where the probe touched. Sucking in her breath she fought the instinct to recoil and instead attempted to go into her own mind, organizing her thoughts into little piles, trying to find that spark of God at had to exist in her. The voltage increased slightly, and the voice that held the rod scolded her, reminding her there is no escape from this pain, and there isn't.
Peace had once told her talked to her about child soldiers in the gentle coaching words of someone who is trying to get you to admit what you won't. It wasn't that she didn't realize she was broken, that almost six years as a Guardian and a young one at that, hadn't taken it's toil on her psyche. But some people were chosen for badness...it was almost genetic. Smoke had been the same as she was even though he hadn't raised her. Life was pain, and Janus had always said that pain was to be overcome, pushed through, learned from. It made you stronger, and so she tried to push through the current and it's sharpness but again that tsk'ing voice to her left made it impossible. There was no escape from it, just acceptance. The soothing stroke of fingers running over the sizzled flesh bringing her back to an uncomfortable awareness of the situation.
Accept the pain, the voice encouraged her, and the pleasure. See how both halves equal life. But there was no pleasure in life she wanted to argue, only stolen bits of enjoyment before the other boot fell and that walls came crashing down leaving you painfully alone again. But she didn't, arguing would net her nothing in this situation. Instead she went to the quiet place, the one the Monk's had shown her. She missed the Adepts and their mountain, they were so calm, so at peace with everything. Much like the voice talking to her now, deep and resonating with supernal power.
The current traces it way around her body both intimate and cruel and she squirms away from it, until the hand prevents her from moving further, forcing thoughts from her mind. It's humiliating...she wants to beg it to stop but it won't so she doesn't. A dot of blue light forms in the landscape of her mind and she follows it, she doesn't want to but the voice keeps urging her, assuring her it's okay, she has no control in this instance. Tears roll freely down her cheeks, mastigos aren't meant to not be in control of something, this is hard...harder than she thought. She becomes aware of each fingertip, every muscle and nerve ending in her body hanging there has the blue light grows around her.
The voice of the Almighty is waiting for her it comes in waves of color, in nothing a human mind could describe or vocalize. Washing over her everything fades to be replaced by a peace she has never known. In the seconds it resides in her she sees so clearly what the Messianics have been missing all this time. Life is pain, but also joy, they aren't damned by him, only by themselves. His love is pure, so pure, and she is a part of it. All this time she has been carrying her sin and her hurt like a cross along with her, now is the time to leave them in his hands, give him control.
It flees to quickly, the voice of God, but the peace remains. The current fades, hands lift her gently down and unfasten the cuffs, and all the while she only laugh and cry in unison at the perfectness of it all. So simple and yet so hard for the mind to see without surrender.